A Choice not Taken
by Cat McDougall
Summary: A Companion makes a Choice, but her Chosen cannot take it.


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A/N: This is entirely the fault of etcetera-cat and her loud-mouthed Companion Teva.

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Disclaimer: The Heralds of Valdemar, Companions and anything to do with Velgarth belong completely to Mercedes Lackey.

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Darren sat looking at the white _horse_ that had dared speak the words into his mind that most kids in Valdemar longed to hear. _:Hello, Darren. I am Selia, and I Choose you.:_

The day had started out quite well for him. Dawn had come early as it always did. Yet, he'd welcomed it. Light whispy clouds had scuttled across the cerulean sky, casting slight, odd shaped shadows at times. He'd reveled in it. The smell of dew dusted wheat filled the air, waking him better than any _chava_ ever could. A leisurely stroll out to the barn and his nose was caressed with the smells he so dearly loved.

His workhorses had placidly eaten the grain he'd provided before allowing themselves to be hooked up to the plow. He'd gained some extra land in a trade and he was eager to get it under his blades and see what would be best to plant there. Idly, he'd toyed with the idea of growing barley along with his wheat and rye crops.

The morning had been spent following the two large horses guiding the plow to cut the even furrows. The smell of freshly overturned earth had clung to him to follow him throughout the day as he'd gone on to other tasks, filling hours and bringing him a peace that only the satisfaction of knowing you're living a life you chose can.

Now he was cleaning and repairing harness, sitting in the shade of his large barn. When he'd heard the chime of Companion hooves on the road, he'd thought nothing of it, assuming it had been the Herald on circuit. Granted he was a bit off the beaten path but he'd kept the circuit-rider over night once.

He _hadn't_ expected the Companion to stop at his farm or to be riderless. Assuming it was one on Search, he'd risen and fetched a bucket of water for her, placing it within easy reach, going back to his work. His head had been bent over the leather examining the worn place when the hooves had stopped just before him, causing him to look up startled.

__

:Hello, Darren. I am Selia and I Choose you.: She'd said to him, the words echoing within his mind.

Darren's face showed only shock and dismay. He was out here alone. He didn't _do_ people. He liked his isolation. One or two trips into the village a year was quite enough for him, thank you very much. Standing up suddenly, he glared as the Companion snorted and backed off a pace, after throwing her head up slightly. "I am _not_ yer Chosen, horse. Get off my farm." He snarled the words at the Companion, picking up his fallen harness and stomping into the barn.

Selia followed him. _:You are my Chosen, Daren. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but I wasn't old enough until just this past year. I'm sorry.:_ Her apology was completely sincere. Everyone knew you couldn't lie mind to mind. It was a major point amongst the Companions.

Darren whipped around and glared at her. "Get outta me head horse. Yer mistaken. Now go find yer Chosen and let an honest farmer be." So saying he somehow managed to slam the large doors to his barn, leaving Selia standing to stare at the offending wood between the two of them. Neither plowhorse looked up from their single minded grazing in the small corral next to it.

Selia could be heard to sigh heavily. Darren was her Chosen, she knew that much at least. Her hoof rang against the wood, a chiming heard throughout the small farm yard. "Get outta here!" His muffled, rather annoyed voice came through the door, that made no move at all.

The Companion, weary after so long a journey, walked around to peer over the corral fence to see if there was a way into the barn through it. Unfortunately, she'd been preempted by her Chosen. He'd already slammed that door as well.

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:Look, Darren. You are_ my chosen. The least you could do is come out here and talk to me.:_ Selia's mind voice was exasperated and slightly put out with him.

Darren didn't care. The Companion could get exasperated, or even downright pissy, for all he cared. He wasn't going. He was staying right here on his small little farm. "I _said_ stay outta me head! Get outta here! I ain't got time for you!"

Selia, if Companions _could_ snarl, did. She walked back, kicking the door once again, the bell like tone lingering on the breeze was ominous. _:You're being ridiculous! Open the damned door!:_

Darren's snort, even through the wood separating them, was traced with ironic laughter. "Not a chance in hells horse! Get outta here!"

Selia glared at the offending wood between her and her Chosen. Heat vision, if it had been a Gift, would have been greatly appreciated by the mare right now. Or even Firestarting. She'd dearly love to set the thing on fire, preferably having to run in and drag her Chosen out but his hair. Still, she had to get him to Haven. Once there he'd understand that he _was _needed beyond the farmer he was now.

Sighing heavily she kicked the door again. _:Just open the door! We have a long trip ahead of us!:_

Darren snorted again, having gone back to his harness mending. "I am not going to Heaven. It'd take every god you could name to get me into Greys and I sure as hells am not wearing those target suits!" He shouted at the blockading door, drawing another snort and kick from the irate Companion outside.

His head was bent over the leather in his hand, squinting in the dim light of the barn. He was _not_ going to become a Herald. Some were suited to it, but not him. Not after he'd gotten that letter…

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He was quite happy today, he decided. His brother should be returning from his training as a Bard soon. They were going to spend MidSummer together before his brother went on to just be a Bard. He snorted to himself. "Just" a Bard sounded ridiculous even in his own private thoughts. Still, he set up the bedding his brother would use for his week's return before going on.

The ring of companion hooves in his yard had startled him. What would a Herald be doing here? He was really too far off the beaten path to get regular visitors, even the circuit Herald. Cleaning off his hands, he stepped outside, surprised to see the special messenger sitting on her long-legged stallion. "Can I help you?" He'd asked warily.

She'd nodded sharply, looking around the yard. "Are you Darren? Brother to the Bard Gerald?" Her voice had been harsh and low, dry almost.

He'd nodded warily once more. She had mutely held out the letter to him, the Companion rock steady beneath her. Darren had looked confused but had taken it, opening it slowly.

Dear Darren,

By the time you get this, it'll be over. I am dying as I write this and there's nothing the Healers can do to stop it. I was extremely foolish. There was fighting along the Karsite border and I went, as did many of my brethren, to see and to record. Unfortunately, I saw a Herald go down in the fighting, his Companion gravely wounded.

Darren, I couldn't _not_ act. I had to do something. I ran into the fray. While I dragged the Herald to safety, an attacker caught us. All the weapons training in the world doesn't help when it's your final battle. I managed to save the Herald, but I, my brother, am dying. I wish it were some other way, but not even the most powerful Healers can save me.

I love you, Darren. Be well and may fair harvests follow you always.

Love, Gerald.

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Darren hadn't looked up at the messenger. He was too numb. Instead, he'd just turned around and gone back inside sitting at his table, staring at the spot he'd made up for Gerald.

Darren sighed, going over more harness, his hands knowing the work even though his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what he had to do to get rid of the stupid horse outside his barn. Her hoof rang against the barn door once more, dust motes dancing through the shafts of sunshine inside. Growing weary of her insistence he stood and opened the door frowning at her. "I ain't yer Chosen. I don't know you and don't want to know you. Get outta my yard."

Selia blinked at his words, so close to the almost forbidden ones that only one Companion had ever spoken. He couldn't mean what he'd said. He couldn't! She looked back at him steadily, glad for an impassive face. _:You're my Chosen Darren. We need to get to Haven.:_

Darren shook his head stubbornly. "I ain't yer Chosen, horse. Get off of my farm!"

Selia could see, finally, that he was serious. A swift mental probe showed that he would never change his mind. The Choice was mutual. It had to be. By the nature of the bond that Companion and Herald shared, it had to be. She sighed and stepped back from him, backing up slowly, her hoof beats for once flat and not ringing. _:I do not know you. You are not my Chosen.:_

The snapping of the tentative bond between them rang within both of their minds, dropping Darren to his knees with a gasp. Selia squealed in pain, rage and growing insanity. Wheeling on back heels, she tore out of the farm yard, shaking violently. Racing out onto the road, she tore out of his vicinity, leaving the gibbering Darren behind.

The former farmer lay within the door of his barn, that had held the Companion out, drooling and gibbering to himself, without knowing what words spilled from his mouth.

Selia, now almost completely mad, raced onto the road, not caring that wagons halted swiftly to watch the charging and plunging Companion pass. She lashed out at anything that came close to her, trees, bushes, animals, all were equally kicked at. Normally accurate aim was far off. None dared approach the insane Companion.

Back in Haven the GroveBorn sent out the Call to the closest Herald who was startled when his Companion suddenly veered off their chosen path and raced towards where Selia, now completely mad, was attacking anything that dared be in her path.

Grimly the Herald held on, bending low over his Companion's neck, both dreading the grim duty waiting for them. Finally, following the line of bewildered citizens and destruction, they found her.

Smartly, none of the local populace had dared try to contain her. She stood, shivering, sweat slicking her hair down as her muscles longed to go on. The Companion approached her cautiously.

The Herald pulled his bow grimly, knocking an arrow. His own Companion, somehow containing the mad one, stood steady, waiting for the death blow to fly.

The arrow struck deep, spilling the life's blood of the insane Companion onto the hard packed earth beneath her now lifeless body. Slowly the Herald dismounted and approached the rapidly cooling flesh of what had been one of the treasures of Valdemar. Kneeling next to the dead mare, he felt for a pulse, his eyes closing in grief, unable to be expressed here.

Silently, the people of the village gathered around him. He looked at them and sighed. "Prepare a burial team, please." They all leapt to obey his command. He, however went over to lean against his Companion's warm neck, trying to draw some comfort.

They stood that way, until the stallion nudged his shoulder. _:Her name was Selia. She came here after a farmer named Darren.:_ There was something more there and the Herald looked at his Companion, sending only a questioning thought to his partner. _:He was Gerald's brother.:_ The Companion said simply.

The Herald startled almost out of his grief closed his eyes in fresh pain, remembering the brave Bard that had pulled him from the battlefield…


End file.
